diesarock (
diesarock) wrote in
capeandcowllogs2011-04-01 07:21 am
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
Entry tags:
SOME DAY WE'LL HAVE HAPPINESS that day is not today
WHO: Esper and Chimera
WHERE: Esper's place
WHEN: Sometime between this and now. Pffff who needs timelines NOT ME.
WARNINGS: uh. girltears? and angst. and self-harm! and angst. and girltears.
WHAT: hey you dyed your hai--oh no wait. oh.
WORDS: yes
When she woke up in an unfamiliar place, sore and hurt and frightened, the first thing Terra did was escape, warping straight from one strange room to the roof of the MAC. It was a short hop; wherever it was hadn't been far from where she'd been taken. From there it was simple to warp back into her own apartment, skipping stairwells, hallways, and her own locked door. The worst of the adrenaline had worn off in her sleep, but the muscles in her arms and legs were still sore for the residue. Her ribs throbbed, and she had a headache -- just a dull throb as from slamming head-first into something solid, more external than internal suffering.
Everything was just as she had left it, of course. Dishes still needed to be done, some laundry to be put away, and all the other general maintenance of solitary living -- Terra ignored all this and simply fell back upon her couch, scrubbing hands over her face. It was some effort to wake herself up, but the awakening she found was not one she would have wished. Her hands froze against her face, fur still matted and clumped with dry blood, her face still stinging from wounds not quite healed over.
Memories came like a downpour; of how she had come to be in that strange room, how she'd been able to warp this way and that, and why her body was still not the familiar, human form she desired. Perhaps she should have realized it the very moment she awoke, or at least once she had begun using magic once more after so long without it, but that power had always been natural to her. She had not yet become truly accustomed to its absence. It was not the presence of her magic that forced her upright on the couch, hands shaking and breath seizing and stalling in her throat. It was not even the form she wore now that concerned her most. It was the faces -- the man, the mask, the monster, the girl--
Though Terra's power had long since settled, there was a painful throb through her body at that sudden recollection. How badly had she hurt that girl, she wondered. Had she needed to go to a hospital? Would she still be in one now? Would those scars heal over? Guilt filled her chest with ice; she felt like she was going to throw up, and the seizing up in her breathing as she shook helped nothing. Her eyes would have turned red for crying, if not for the inhuman colors still residing there.
She screamed -- at herself, at her powers even now still shielding her body, at this place for toying with her so -- and with a slap of her hand sent her couch skidding across the floor, flipping backwards in a sudden upkick of wind. A veritable whirlwind came to life in her living room, picking up clothing and dishes, trinkets and weapons and the kitchen table, destroying everything it could touch.
Dishes were shattered against every wall of her apartment, clothes strewn everywhere; the table had smashed so hard against one exterior wall it had dented the latter before it had cracked and splintered; knives were stuck to every wall and stabbed into the couch, one long sword sheathed two thirds to the hilt through her front door. It was luck alone that kept everything else within the apartment; her windows, somehow, went unbroken.
As for Terra herself, the transformation was gone. It was not a blood-spattered monster that fell to her knees behind the flipped-over couch; not a monster with yellowed eyes trying to keep tears from falling. Just a girl, with deep scratches across her face, fingernail gouges up and down her arms, sitting in the middle of an apartment now just as broken-looking as she. Her hair, loose and tangled, was the thick forest green she'd always known.
The only thing untouched by the chaos was her dress: still as pearl-white and fit for a wedding as when the mannequin wore it.
WHERE: Esper's place
WHEN: Sometime between this and now. Pffff who needs timelines NOT ME.
WARNINGS: uh. girltears? and angst. and self-harm! and angst. and girltears.
WHAT: hey you dyed your hai--oh no wait. oh.
WORDS: yes
When she woke up in an unfamiliar place, sore and hurt and frightened, the first thing Terra did was escape, warping straight from one strange room to the roof of the MAC. It was a short hop; wherever it was hadn't been far from where she'd been taken. From there it was simple to warp back into her own apartment, skipping stairwells, hallways, and her own locked door. The worst of the adrenaline had worn off in her sleep, but the muscles in her arms and legs were still sore for the residue. Her ribs throbbed, and she had a headache -- just a dull throb as from slamming head-first into something solid, more external than internal suffering.
Everything was just as she had left it, of course. Dishes still needed to be done, some laundry to be put away, and all the other general maintenance of solitary living -- Terra ignored all this and simply fell back upon her couch, scrubbing hands over her face. It was some effort to wake herself up, but the awakening she found was not one she would have wished. Her hands froze against her face, fur still matted and clumped with dry blood, her face still stinging from wounds not quite healed over.
Memories came like a downpour; of how she had come to be in that strange room, how she'd been able to warp this way and that, and why her body was still not the familiar, human form she desired. Perhaps she should have realized it the very moment she awoke, or at least once she had begun using magic once more after so long without it, but that power had always been natural to her. She had not yet become truly accustomed to its absence. It was not the presence of her magic that forced her upright on the couch, hands shaking and breath seizing and stalling in her throat. It was not even the form she wore now that concerned her most. It was the faces -- the man, the mask, the monster, the girl--
Though Terra's power had long since settled, there was a painful throb through her body at that sudden recollection. How badly had she hurt that girl, she wondered. Had she needed to go to a hospital? Would she still be in one now? Would those scars heal over? Guilt filled her chest with ice; she felt like she was going to throw up, and the seizing up in her breathing as she shook helped nothing. Her eyes would have turned red for crying, if not for the inhuman colors still residing there.
She screamed -- at herself, at her powers even now still shielding her body, at this place for toying with her so -- and with a slap of her hand sent her couch skidding across the floor, flipping backwards in a sudden upkick of wind. A veritable whirlwind came to life in her living room, picking up clothing and dishes, trinkets and weapons and the kitchen table, destroying everything it could touch.
Dishes were shattered against every wall of her apartment, clothes strewn everywhere; the table had smashed so hard against one exterior wall it had dented the latter before it had cracked and splintered; knives were stuck to every wall and stabbed into the couch, one long sword sheathed two thirds to the hilt through her front door. It was luck alone that kept everything else within the apartment; her windows, somehow, went unbroken.
As for Terra herself, the transformation was gone. It was not a blood-spattered monster that fell to her knees behind the flipped-over couch; not a monster with yellowed eyes trying to keep tears from falling. Just a girl, with deep scratches across her face, fingernail gouges up and down her arms, sitting in the middle of an apartment now just as broken-looking as she. Her hair, loose and tangled, was the thick forest green she'd always known.
The only thing untouched by the chaos was her dress: still as pearl-white and fit for a wedding as when the mannequin wore it.
no subject
This wasn't good.
The floor beneath him shuddered violently with her outburst as he was heading to the door, causing even his bulk to wobble uneasily. He cringed at the thundering below, gritting his teeth as he backtracked, delaying his descent in favor of being armed.
Definitely not good.
The sound and fury seemed to have stopped by the time he kicked open the door to the stairwell, bypassing the effort with a carelessly-cast levitation spell. He landed heavily, shouldering the impact of the door as he barreled through, clearing the length of the hallway quickly. The shape of the blade poking through the door was confusing, even up close, and he made a face at it before realizing what it was - and what it implied.
Bristled, hand to the hilt, Zelgadis gave the door a heavy shove, murdering yet another MAC lock without thought. The sword lodged in it caused the whole thing to stop very short of swinging open, forcing him to slink inside, the act slowing him down entirely to assess. He had ghost-goosebumps, an uneasy tingling on the back of his neck.
Much of the damage didn't register right away short of the awareness of what a damn mess it all was, because once he zeroed in on Terra's shape, dishes and furniture fell way out of mind.
Despite his form, Zelgadis could move pretty deftly when he wanted to. Two long strides, evading the patches of shattered dinnerware, and he was kneeling at her side, hands out and hovering, ready to react.
"Terra-?!"
no subject
Her hands came away from her face, palms and cheeks both shining from smeared wetness, and the damage was more obvious. Her eyes were puffy and reddened from crying, and where the Esper had torn at her own beastly face had left a series of dark gouges, blood-darkened lines in threes and fours across her forehead, her temples and cheeks. She looked at him in her sadness, face tight and mouth dry, and tried to speak. Terra could only get as far as "I," before her throat dried up, nothing more able to follow.
What could she even say? Terra closed her mouth and swallowed, looking back to her hands, as though somehow this whole mess were their fault alone.
It probably wasn't that far off the truth.
no subject
no subject
She didn't need to look in a mirror to know that the wounds were gone, but one hand still reached up to her bare cheek to touch healing-over flesh, and the sting of residual magic commanding such. Her expression was hard to read, but at least she had stopped crying.
no subject
"Who did all this?" he asked, head jerking faintly to denote the trainwreck of the room. "Did someone attack you?"
no subject
As much as she wished she could blame someone else, there was nothing for it. "No," she rasped, her voice still raw from so much screaming. It took her two swallows and lowering her voice before she could try again. "No. It... it was me."
no subject
no subject
Her fingers twitched under her stare.
Unfocused on the present, Terra's mind quickly instead veered back to the girl with the electrical power. She had been so frightened, talking as if Terra had reveled in her power and were deliberately hurting people. The look in her eyes, the stutter in her voice; even for the power she wielded, she was just a child. "She thought I was a monster," she murmured, lost far enough in thought it seemed she'd forgotten who could hear her. Her hands curled and uncurled from fists; Mikoto was not the only person who thought so.
no subject
Of course, other than retaliate to some unknown "she", he wasn't much for consolation. Doing before saying. But there wasn't much he could think to do or say about that remark that was all that useful. He had to stifle the urge to make a deadpan comment on how there was only one of those types in the room and it wasn't her.
But that didn't sound too good in his head, so it was probably better left unsaid.
"Can you move?" he prompted at last, starting to shift himself.
no subject
Some distant part of her really hoped he wasn't expecting them to start cleaning now.
no subject
Nothing good came from sitting around in a pile of your own destruction, he figured.
no subject
She waited for him to follow, even having a pretty good idea of where they were going. On the very limited positive side, at least her headaches were gone.
no subject
As always, his door required only a slight nudge to push open - something he'd gotten into the habit of doing with his foot. He sauntered in, stopping halfway into the room to look back over his shoulder, though he knew she was already there.
no subject
It was strange; this was now the first time since she had been killed that she'd been in Zelgadis's apartment with her power, having just reacquired it. Zelgadis was the obvious presence, but Terra should have been able to feel the linger of Lina's presence as well. For that matter, Terra couldn't remember seeing the other woman since her resurrection, and she didn't think Zelgadis had ever mentioned anything. Had something happened? It seemed now like too long a time passed to bring it up now, but the far-gazing concern was still apparent on her face for a few seconds.
It melted away back to fatigue easily enough, Terra finally making her way into the apartment properly.
no subject
"You can stay here," he said, mouth tugging at a grimace that he fought. "I can go back and get whatever you want from down there, but you can stay here for a while."
no subject
With the way things had been going, she didn't want to be by herself.
Swallowing past a lump in her throat, Terra nodded, something that might have been a smile cracking at one corner of her mouth before falling apart. "Okay," she said, nervously brushing back her hair again. "... Thank you."
no subject
He used the time there to try and come up with some kind of reflection as well as a game plan. The last girl that moved on in did it of her own accord, so he had little say in the matter, but...The routine wouldn't be much different, he supposed. So long as Terra wasn't as horrible a sleeper as Lina. The fact that he knew she wasn't sank like a bag of bricks in his gut and colored the rest of his thought process in a very unproductive shade. He huffed aloud and shook his head at himself, snatching the pillows and covers off the bed and dragging them out, returning to the main living area where they were dropped and draped on the sofa. His face was still contorted with his shut up you idiot internal monologue, spurring him to retreat yet again with some half-baked purpose.
no subject
Terra felt sick, nauseous and achy, and she was sick of everything she touched going wrong. She was tired. Just tired. No matter what she did, no matter what she didn't do, it felt like she was being dragged to some awful conclusion to an already weary journey — and she'd already died. Death was supposed to make things less complicated, wasn't it?
With one last scrubbing at her still-blotchy face, Terra let her hands fall to her knees, sighing. Leaning down, she unfastened one shoe, then the other, letting the scuffed-up heels fall to the floor with a dull thump and clack. Falling backwards over the arm had Terra collapsing onto couch cushions and uneven blankets, legs dangling over the side. With a kick she brought the rest of her onto the couch, body contorting into a protective ball and paying no mind to the bed covers. The pillows, however, she gathered into her arms, smothering and hiding her face in down.
no subject
Definitely over-thinking.
He set the sword down along with its belt, fidgeting with it in an almost obsessive-compulsive fashion until he decided there was little reason to continue, ending his distraction. He sighed, sending a slow gaze back to the door. Time to relinquish the...
Oh.
Wait.
Why did he tear off all the covers if it was going to be used by someone?
He had a vexed look on his face when he came skulking back out, grimacing at the sheets still draped where he'd set them. It took another few steps closer to notice that Terra'd already taken over the couch, contrary to what he'd intended. He sucked in a breath, preparing to say something, but bit down on it and exhaling with a sigh.
A flicking gesture with his hand sent one of the sheets off the back and over her unevenly as he passed by, retrieving a pair of books and pen from the table. He made no announcements as he wandered back to the bedroom. They were better distractions than home decorating.